


if i say i love you, well, then i love you

by arcadian (miraclesinapril)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25009354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclesinapril/pseuds/arcadian
Summary: “Johnny Suh. You are literally my favourite person on the entire planet but I’m going to take you out with a rock in three seconds if you don’t admit we’re fucking lost.”Or, in which Johnny and Taeyong get lost in the snow and the best way to save someone from hypothermia is kissing them—among other things
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 36
Kudos: 221





	if i say i love you, well, then i love you

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, ty 🌹
> 
> •i was going to post something else for TY's day but here we are. ofc friends to lovers is my first foray into johnyong, what other trope would let me be so cheesy as shit? 
> 
> •anyhow, ik it's july and it's sweltering hotter than lucifer's butthole in some places but the idea wouldn't leave me alone so here we are :)))
> 
> •title from 'if i say' by mumford & sons. not a particularly happy song but this is a happy (horny) story because johnyong are in love and that's it :D enjoy~~ 
> 
> p.s. if you spot inaccuracies on the whole freezing to death thing... just smile and nod. smile and nod. thank you (◠﹏◠✿)

“So. We’re lost.” Taeyong says conversationally. The only thing that betrays his internal panic is the force with which his boots sink into the snow.

“We are not.” Johnny replies, just as conversational, except nothing betrays any sort of panic because Johnny is not panicking because they are not lost. He knows exactly where they are and where they’re going. 

“Yes we are.” Taeyong says, slightly pitched.

“Not.” 

“Are too.” 

“Are not.” 

“Yes.”

“Nuh uh.” 

“Johnny!”

“Just a little further,” Johnny ignores Taeyong’s outburst and grabs his coat padded arm to pull him along, there’s a break in the dense pine a little way uphill and Johnny recognizes the clearing.

As strong as Johnny is, as much as Taeyong doesn’t stand a chance in a game of strength with Johnny (unless he pulls some underhanded shit), Taeyong manages to not budge despite Johnny’s tugs.

Taeyong crosses his arms, mouth pinched, brows furrowed deeply. Everything points to an incoming earful, a scathing one at that—as scathing as Taeyong gets anyway—and all Johnny can think is  _ cute _ because lost wisps of his butterscotch fringe are peaking out of his hat and sweeping his eyes and he’s blinking rapidly while trying to maintain solemnity. He doesn’t look too different from Lallie, the kitty Mama Suh recently adopted. 

“Johnny Suh. You are literally my favourite person on the entire planet but I’m going to take you out with a rock in three seconds if you don’t admit we’re fucking lost.” 

Johnny knows he should be taking the note of upset in Taeyong’s voice more seriously but really, there’s no need for him to be so worried when he’s got Johnny with him and even if they’re lost Johnny will never let anything happen to him. Hasn’t Taeyong already learnt that? And it’s not— 

Belatedly, Johnny’s brain short circuits. 

“What did you just say?” 

“And it’s getting dark and we have no idea where we are, what are we going to do? Do you think if we climbed these trees we could send—”

“I’m your favourite person?”

“— a signal to, I don’t know, someone? Like there’s bound to—”

“I’m your favourite?” 

“—to be somebody who— what? Oh. Yeah, yeah you are.” 

“Oh,” 

“Yeah. My hands are freezing, I can’t feel them anymore and I think my toes have started to frost over. What are we going to _ do?” _

Johnny would love to give him an answer but currently he is preoccupied with a small crisis of having Lee Taeyong string certain words together wreck havoc inside him. 

Taeyong is neither stingy with affection nor is he crass with his words but there has always been this screen his actions filter through, even with Johnny whom he has known longer than anybody else. 

And Johnny has learnt the codes of Taeyong’s love,  _ thank you _ for ‘I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this’,  _ I’m starving  _ for ‘let me cook you something’,  _ let’s nap  _ for ‘hold me close’ and  _ don’t be an idiot  _ for, well, ‘you’re my favourite idiot’ or perhaps, ‘I love you’, Johnny hasn’t figured it out. But with Taeyong breathless, laugh lines splitting his cheeks in distinct flushed apples and giggles sounding because of him, it means all the same to Johnny. 

_You are my favourite person_ and _you’re extra beautiful today, do you know that?_ _I’m always happy to see you_ and _I love you._ Undressed, unmasked, unguarded. That is Johnny’s language, Johnny who grew up with a mother who cooed for him to say ‘I love you’ before she wanted him to utter ‘mama’, Johnny who thought for the longest time that kissing your friends goodbye was a common thing, Johnny who has no cupboards and drawers for his love, just a pool for everyone to splash into, a pool whose depth is determined by the identity of the wader. 

Taeyong is rooted in the bed. 

Johnny has been drowning for years, chasing Taeyong in an ocean of his own making. Turns out being openly loving to everyone is a double-edged sword, because god help Johnny Suh, Taeyong Lee can never take a hint. That, or he simply doesn’t reciprocate. Johnny prefers to drown than to wallow, so he never lingers on that possibility. 

“I’m going to kill Jisung when we get back.”

“Yeah, sure,” Johnny rolls his eyes. As if Taeyong wouldn’t fold himself into a pretzel to assure Jisung’s comfort, every strand on his head accounted for. They wouldn’t be in this mess if Jisung hadn’t made his ‘sadness’ at losing his Switch in the snow so conspicuous, although of course Taeyong thought Jisung was trying to hide it. Sure, if ten long suffering sighs in a row and flopping about random places on the lodge’s floor and muttering ‘this suuucks’ is the definition of discreet. 

Johnny would be annoyed at Jisung for making them come out here but the Switch was a gift from Jaemin and if there’s anything Johnny wants to deal less with than trudging in arctic weather near sundown, that’s Na Jaemin’s special brand of sulking. 

“What? I kept telling him to look after that thing. It’s his fault we’re out here. That and your awful navigation skills and big ego. If we turned around like an hour ago we could be safe home. But no, you just had to insist we keep going because—”

“Yell at me later but is that a cabin?”

Taeyong whirls to where Johnny is staring and squints.

“No?” 

Johnny doesn’t hate being wrong but he doesn’t exactly enjoy it either and if his eyes aren’t betraying him, they truly are lost. The clearing he knows houses no cabin. They come up to this mountain every winter break, to ski and unwind, a different assortment of friends and a gaggle of younger relatives to babysit in tow each year. 

He’d like to say he knows the area pretty well by now, but maybe Taeyong has a point about his stubbornness. They’ve never wandered far from the guest lodge so close to dark. The woods, whether the evergreens of the mountainside or the oaks by his neighbourhood, have an uncanniness of distorting direction. 

“It definitely is. Maybe the residents can help us, let’s go.” 

“A-are you sure? Looks kinda abandoned. . .” 

“Are you scared? You big baby.”

“Shut up.”

Johnny laughs and inches closer to Taeyong, “I’m here, don’t worry.” 

The cabin is on the edge of the clearing, buried in boughs weighed with snow. The closer they get to it, the more it starts to look like a shed rather than a cabin. It’s small, the exterior dingy, like the wood has started to decay and Johnny wonders what the chances are of the whole thing buckling into splinters over whoever is inside. 

That’s the thing, though. In the dredges of the winter light, it doesn’t look like it’s been entered in years, let alone cared for, and Taeyong’s earlier concerns are validated. They stand side by side at the abysmal structure and Johnny tries to keep the creeping alarm at bay. 

“I don’t want to go in there any more than you do,” Johnny says, sorting out his thoughts, “but let's weigh our options. We could keep going and hope we’re close to somewhere—” Taeyong groans at that, “—since we’ve been going for, like, two hours. It’s possible. 

“But if we’re wrong, we might not be able to get shelter at all and it’s already night, we could be wandering forever. You were right, we should’ve turned back ages ago, but it’s too late for that and the less farther we roam, the better chances we have of being tracked. And I’m pretty sure the grey wolves on this mountain hunt at night. Plus, there’s always the possibility of bears and—” Johnny cuts off, realizing Taeyong’s tremoring harder and certain it’s not a result of the cold alone. 

“Shit Yongie, I’m sorry.” He reaches for his friend, their heavy outdoor wear making proper contact difficult, “I didn’t mean to scare you, just thinking aloud.” 

“We have to go in there, don’t we?”

“Yeah, I think we do.” he says softly, apologetic. 

Johnny moves forward and raps loudly on the door. He does it several more times, leaving pauses to pick up a response. The only reply that comes is a pile of snow tumbling off the roof, jostled down by the knocks. Johnny walks around the cabin, kicking it in several places. Nothing caves in or crumbles and his boots don’t sink into any of the darker spots he suspected were festering. 

“I think it’ll hold us for the night.” He reaches out a hand for Taeyong and they enter together cautiously. 

They use the flashlight on Taeyong’s phone to see. The interior is surprising. The space is small but it’s quite well kept, almost every piece of furniture covered in layers of dust sheets. There’s a small fireplace that’s heaped with cinder and a single armchair across it. A twin bed is shoved in the corner, adjacent to it a miniature kitchen corner with an old rayburn stove and a forearm’s length of counter, cupboard underneath.

Johnny finds cans upon cans of beans and tomato sauce and sardines. They’d eaten before they left but it’s been a few hours since and Johnny turns to ask Taeyong if he’s hungry. He stops in his tracks. 

Taeyong is transfixed by the chimney, not having moved an inch since they entered. His eyes are closed and his skin is deathly. He is no longer trembling but  _ shaking, _ teeth clattering together like marbles, breath puffing, knees wobbling. Then Johnny sees it, the darker patch climbing up from Taeyong’s boots to his knees. Wet, Johnny realizes, the snow got deeper and deeper as they went, Taeyong’s legs are not as long as his and he’s been damp for a while. 

Johnny curses and springs into action. He shuts the cabin door and throws the sheets off the armchair, covering his mouth and Taeyong’s as a cloud of dust is exhaled. He nudges Taeyong into it and kneels, working on Taeyong’s laces.

“We have to get you out of these.” 

He works quickly, kicking himself for not noticing sooner. Knowing Taeyong he’s probably been freezing like this for some time now and if Johnny had to bet his life on it, he’d say Taeyong’s whole grumble earlier was half sincere and half meant to keep Johnny worry free. 

“God, Taeyong,” Johnny sighs, standing him up to help wiggle him out of the uncomfortable, damp trousers when he’s done with the boots and socks, his feet ice blocks to the touch. 

He leaves Taeyong in his underwear and coat to go and peel off the sheets from the bed. It’s dressed in a comforter and layers of blankets and Johnny sends a quick thank you to whatever gods exist. He directs Taeyong to the bed, but not before ridding him of the rest of his clothes. He helps Taeyong shrug off his coat, throws it down onto the mattress with the covers drawn back, helps him lift his arms as he strips him of his sweater and undershirt and sends him into bed almost naked. Johnny shrugs off his parka, cold coming over him with encompassing hands but he grits his teeth and sets it over his friend before pulling all the covers back over him. 

“I’ll be right back,” 

With teeth chattering himself, he tries his best to make quick work of the fireplace, clearing the cinders and piling in the limited logs by the side. They’re going to run out at some point in the night but for now, anything to give them a little warmth. 

It takes a few tries since some pieces of the wood are damp, but after rearranging and blowing and applying ever skill from scout camp, he unearths from the depths of his subconscious, the fire takes and a homey merigold glow competes with the phone flashlight in creating shadows on the walls. 

“I’m here,” he says when he hears Taeyong croak out something that sounds like his name and he rises swiftly to divest himself of clothes, too. He crawls in next to Taeyong in his underwear, legs dangling past the edge, body half off the bed. 

“Hi,” he reaches for Taeyong and Taeyong  _ clings _ immediately. It’s like being held by an ice floe, Taeyong is absolutely freezing to the touch and Johnny clenches his jaw so he doesn’t flinch. How did it get so bad right under his nose? He should’ve noticed. 

“J-Joh-Johnny,”

“Hmm,” he pulls Taeyong flush against him, knowing right now he’s a furnace compared to him, almost putting Taeyong entirely on his chest. The fit is still tight but Johnny’s no longer one shift from falling off the bed and Taeyong clings tighter like even this isn’t close enough.

“Joh-Johnny, I’m s-s- _ so _ col-ld.”

“I know,” he says, sympathetic, “we’ll get you warm soon, hang on.”

“C-can’t fe-feel my ha-hands.”

He’s shaking so hard, almost spasming in Johnny’s arms. There’s an unmistakable hint of fear in his voice and the clattering is painful to hear alone and Johnny’s heart breaks a little.

“Can you rub your hands on my back? Can you do that for me, baby?” the endearment slips out as he racks his brain for any other option of getting Taeyong warmed faster than this. 

Taeyong’s hands move slowly from his shoulders to the middle of his back and Johnny hisses with the cold but he murmurs, “Good, good, there you go,” as Taeyong’s fingers stutter slowly over his skin. 

They stay like that awhile, fire crepitating and filling the room with the crackles and the scent of burning oak. Albeit Taeyong still shaking, head pressed to Johnny’s chest and even his face is terribly icy, the intensity gradually gets much less concerning. He smells like snow, and cinnamon and citron—his shampoo. Johnny wraps his arms around him tighter, buries his face in Taeyong’s hair. 

“C-can’t feel m-my to-toes,” Taeyong whispers after a while, a note of fear still colouring his voice. 

Johnny doesn’t think, just acts. He grips one of Taeyong’s soft thighs and swings Taeyong’s leg over his hip. Taeyong’s knee digs into his waist and his heel presses against Johnny’s calf, all toes splayed flat on his skin. With a little difficulty, Johnny draws in his overhanging limbs and curls it around Taeyong’s other foot, making sure his toes are enveloped between his legs. His feet aren’t as warm as the rest of his body but he  _ is _ significantly warmer than Taeyong’s and it should help. 

“How about that, better?”

“Y-yeah, t-th-thanks,” 

Johnny hums and turns his face into Taeyong’s hair again. He unfurls his arms a bit so he can run his hands down Taeyong’s back easier, run them along his arms, rub his thighs. He tries not to think too much, about the proximity, about the velvetness of Taeyong’s skin, about the times he’s dreamt of being this intertwined, though under different circumstances. 

They’ve been close before, they’ve shared a bed before—hell Taeyong somehow always manages to make a pillow of Johnny (or fall off the bed entirely) when they fall asleep in the same place. And they’ve seen each other naked, showered in the same cubicle, lathered sunscreen on each other at the beach, kneaded out sore muscles for each other. 

But this simple press of skin on skin, every inch of Taeyong spread over him, this is new and Johnny’s brain shouldn’t be here, in these dark crevices where thoughts of Taeyong’s softness and sweetness have resided for years but withdrawing takes effort. There should only be one task at hand right now and that’s helping Taeyong, Johnny reprimands himself, then rips himself from the unsanctioned shadows. 

“What is it?” He notices Taeyong’s mouth move against his skin, opening and closing several times like there’s something he’s struggling to get out. “Yong? Talk to me. Are you hurting somewhere?”

Taeyong stays silent for a quivering heartbeat. Then quietly, tentatively, he lifts his head, “I-I ca-can’t feel my lip-lips.”

“Oh,” 

There’s a flush on his cheeks and nose, and cold sweat matting his forehead. His hair is disheveled from nuzzling Johnny, rosy lips dark, darker than usual and slightly parted to show his front teeth. He looks glassy and petal soft at the same time, though Johnny knows he won’t shatter, even if he breaks. Johnny doesn’t know a more resilient person. 

But the obvious need for Johnny — for Johnny to do something, help him— it’s always shattered him when Taeyong looks at him like that. It’s not so much that Taeyong is unguarded, but the fact that Johnny rarely sees him like that with anyone else and it's so hard to not read into it.

So Johnny lifts a thumb, slowly places it on Taeyong’s cold swollen bottom lip and starts to trace around his mouth in an effort to warm. 

“This okay?” 

Taeyong nods, sinks into the crook of his arm and Johnny follows, thumb caressing languidly, learning a new topography he never had a reason to learn before— though not for lack of want. 

It might’ve been the fact that Taeyong had been more shivers than person but despite both naked and entangled up till now, the silence didn’t feel like this. Not heavy but. . . vigilant. Expectant, on the cusp of something grand. It might just be him, though. It might be ancient instinct or conditioning perhaps. Something extra vulnerable about someone’s mouth, an altar with gated spells, particularly one Johnny is often and happily brought to his knees by. 

He can’t stand the swell of this. . . something-nothing and Johnny’s arsenal of words is always full, even if ultimately it’s little more than empty humour. 

“Hey, Yong,” Johnny pierces the quiet in a whisper, “I sold my vacuum the other day,” he says when Taeyong makes a faint acknowledgment.

“Huh?”

“Yeah it was collecting dust so I sold it.” 

A heartbeat of silence followed by another and then Taeyong’s shoulders are shaking a little harder, a breathless sound caught in his chest and Johnny’s face almost cracks open in a smile. 

“Yo-you don’t e-even h-have one.”

“I mean technically it’s Mom’s but whatever. Don’t pick jokes apart.” He knocks gently on Taeyong’s forehead, as he usually does whenever Taeyong calls him out on his terrible humour, whenever they’re in waiting somewhere or just bored together. 

“How about this, this is easy. What do you call a fake noodle?” 

“A suh-suhgetti?”

“Ha-ha, so funny.” Johnny knocks on his forehead again, “It’s called an impasta.” 

Taeyong ignores him stoutly this time, even if his shoulders shake weakly.

“Fine. What did Batman say to Robin before they got in the car?”

“Don’t b-be silly?” 

“No. He said, “Robin, get in the car.” 

_ “God,” _ this time Taeyong bursts into laughter and something frees from Johnny’s chest, relief like a punctured tire. 

“Nope,” Johnny chuckles, “just me. Oh, I think you’ll like this one. What do—”

Johnny never gets to finish his joke about vegetarian zombies because suddenly there is a pair of lips, rough but now warmer, pressed to his. For a single breath, Johnny doesn’t hear anything but blood in his ears, doesn’t even feel corporeal except for where Taeyong’s mouth is on his. 

When Taeyong draws back it’s way too soon and Johnny doesn’t give him the chance to slip away. He follows Taeyong’s head to where it’s nested on his bicep again, curls his arm so Taeyong is pushed closer and kisses him softly, slowly, a butterfly press for a butterfly press, a fulfillment of wish for a fulfillment of wish. 

The fire crackles loudly, burns brightly, outside a wind starts to wail as snow falls and in the distance wolves chorus in a howl. They hear none of it. 

Taeyong is warmer in his hold, the chill beneath his skin thawed, and it’s like it’s taken his bones and angles with it, leaving him malleable, arching into Johnny’s subconscious caresses, bending his neck for Johnny’s deeper kisses, moulding himself into Johnny with each touch and Johnny never wants him to break away, never wants this to end.

“Hey,” Johnny whispers when they’re catching their breaths. 

“Hey,” Taeyong returns, cheeks redder, gaze molten, blissful, and the sight flips Johnny’s stomach. 

“You okay?”

Taeyong shakes his head, “More,” he says, and cranes up for Johnny again.

Johnny delivers more freely, a notch of inhibition falling away, even as he wonders what all this means for them— but Johnny doesn’t dwell, he drowns and right now he lets Taeyong submerge him wholly into wetter kisses, into tongues that meet and lick daintily into mouths, into little moans that elicit trembles, into wandering touches and a renewed magnetism, into a kindling sense of heat and desire. 

“John- _ ny,” _ Taeyong moans loudly when Johnny’s mouth meets his throat and the sound is so jarring, so beautiful, Johnny pauses to drink it in. 

Johnny has always known Taeyong’s sensitive spots, all accidental discoveries. And truthfully he’d avoided them for his sake more than Taeyong’s, because he didn’t trust what repeatedly hearing Taeyong’s muted gasps at having his neck stroked would do to him or how much he could feign obtuseness when Taeyong’s whole body breaks into an arch when Johnny accidentally brushes an area on his chest too close to the vicinity of his sternum. 

Now. . . now he holds a ticket to the show he’s always felt was never his to attend or witness, invited in by Taeyong’s fingers in his hair, urging him down onto his skin, arching into him as his tongue meets the hollow of his throat. 

Whatever cold that had gripped their bones is stripped down layer by layer in kisses, in bitten skin, in nails marking shallow crimson canals on sheened skin, in sighs and moans of gone, gone,  _ gone _ pleasure— half bitten, half swallowed, wholly soaked in to the marrow, and when Taeyong’s thigh hooks more securely over his hip and Taeyong’s groin is slotted directly against Johnny’s, Johnny thinks he may implode on the spot, Taeyong is so, so hard.

_ “Johnny,” _ Taeyong pleads, over and over, until Johnny rids him of his underwear and fists his cock,  _ “Johnny,” _ he’s still pleading, except perhaps this time he’s bargaining with pleasure itself, overwhelmed,  _ Johnny, _ there are small hands around his cock and Johnny hisses into Taeyong’s forehead as Taeyong sucks bruises onto his neck. 

Johnny doesn’t want this to be over but Taeyong’s twitching sharply to his strokes, clamping down on his cries as they leave his mouth like it’s out of his control, toes leaving deep moons all over Johnny’s calves and Johnny bears the stings proudly. An in control Taeyong would never allow himself to be this unrestrained and Johnny’s mind keeps tripping up like a scratched record over the fact that he has Taeyong falling apart in his arms; a revered scene from a long held dream. 

“Do you want to finish in my mouth?” Johnny breathes in Taeyong’s ear, because he wants Taeyong to, and also because he’s not getting out of this bed for anything, and while he can deal with it, he’s not sure Taeyong will rest properly in a sticky, come soiled bed. 

Taeyong  _ jerks _ at the question and Johnny thinks he’s going to come on the spot, but surprisingly Taeyong holds out, gurgled sound in his throat and gives his frantic assent. 

_ “Please, _ I’m so close.” 

Johnny drapes his parka around Taeyong’s broad shoulders, slightly shoves back the covers and grabs Taeyong by the thighs to manoeuvre him onto his shoulders. Taeyong goes easily, small and pliable to Johnny’s intentions, watching in curiosity laced with desperation and the possibilities that open up in Johnny’s mind make him want to flip them over and fuck Taeyong ragged into their nest of sheets and covers. Not yet, not tonight, but it doesn’t feel impossible anymore and that alone puts bubbles in Johnny’s veins, sparkling elation. 

When Taeyong realizes what Johnny intends, his mouth falls with a gasp and his eyes widen impossibly. 

“Johnny,” he groans, brittle, like he’s going to cry, going to break. 

“Shh,” Johnny soothes, curls a hand around Taeyong’s waist to squeeze reassuringly, “you want to. _ I _ want you to.” 

Taeyong bites his lip, nods, and lets Johnny sink his cock into his mouth, grip around his thighs. Johnny’s parka is loose over his shoulders, leaving the pleasing outline of his body, the angles that slope into yielding curves. His collarbones, skin sinfully sensitive, is decorated in a flush that rises into his neck, deep reds blooming already and Johnny knows by morning it’ll be clear what’s been done to him. For now, it doesn’t matter that they’ll be the only ones who know these marks are Johnny’s. 

It’s the eyes that do it for Johnny, though. The dark gaze illuminated by firelight, entirely rapt on him with wantonness, with pleasure, with need, and Johnny decides he quite likes this position. 

Taeyong is so close to release and Johnny sucks all of him in with ease and when he brings a tentative hand to Johnny’s hair and Johnny hums in approval, Taeyong fucks in once, twice, thrice, and he’s gone in a violent shudder.

“John- John-  _ John-ny,” _ this time when he stammers, it’s not because of the cold. It’s him fracturing over Johnny, because of Johnny,  _ for _ Johnny, and Johnny hums still and swallows everything and keeps Taeyong in his mouth until Taeyong is pleading for him to stop in the same breathless voice he came in. 

Johnny encircles Taeyong’s back as he nudges him to his thighs, sitting up. Taeyong’s matted forehead falls on Johnny’s chest as he heaves, soft and sedated from the pleasure. The parka has fallen off and Johnny brings it back around him, knowing how quickly the chill will return once the adrenaline has left his body. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs, massaging Taeyong’s hip as he recovers, “beautiful, so beautiful for me.” 

When Taeyong sighs his name in bone deep satisfaction, Johnny grabs his chin to kiss him again. 

“What about,” Taeyong asks before he’s cut off by another kiss, “you?” 

“What about me, baby?” 

“Want me to. . .” 

The flush on him deepens and Johnny laughs. “Just, here,” he brings Taeyong’s hand to his cock and the contact is enough to make him groan. 

Taeyong’s fingers wrap around him, the tips only managing to meet around the girth and the sight of it brings Johnny back to full erection. “Is that- is this enough?” Taeyong asks, uncertain, as he squeezes his fingers down to the base and then back up to thumb the slit, and again, making Johnny suck in his breaths. 

“Looking at you is enough.” Johnny smiles, a little dopey, a lot smug at Taeyong’s faint gasp before he looks down and focuses on getting him off.

“Johnny,” 

“I’m not kidding.”

“I-” then he shakes his head and mutters absently, “you’re big.” 

“I didn’t notice.” 

If Taeyong wasn’t preoccupied he would laugh and Johnny can hear the gears shifting in Taeyong’s brain from here. “Taeyong,” he hooks a finger beneath Taeyong’s chin and lifts his head, “what is it?”

The uncertainty written all over his face makes Johnny’s stomach twist and he wonders if he should put an end to it until he teases out what’s wrong.

“Have you- you’ve slept with people, right?”

“Right. . .” 

“And it was— it- it was- it fit?” 

Johnny is stumped to say the least. 

“Are you— Taeyong. Are you asking me if my dick wasn’t too big to have sex with people?”

“I— No. shut up.” 

“Yongie,” he coos, gathering him closer, “I’m flattered.” He ignores Taeyong’s embarrassed whines as he presses loud kisses all over his face, “Why, do you have someone particular in mind for me to fuck?” 

“Yes.” Taeyong replies with surprising swiftness, maybe it’s courage from how obviously sensitive Johnny is to his touch, “Me. I’ve- I have, for a long time.” 

_ “Taeyong,”  _

“I,” Taeyong starts conspiratorially, grip on Johnny loosening to barely there pressure and Johnny starts to thrust in his hold lightly, latching on to every word that leaves Taeyong’s mouth “wanted it so badly, for so long.”

_ “Taeyong,”  _

There’s an insouciance in his gaze that Johnny finds quite ruthless as he continues, “I think I really like your dick, Johnny. It’s so- so pretty.” 

“I think I—  _ shit— _ really,  _ ah—” like you  _ Johnny was going to say but the train of thought is abruptly derailed as Taeyong rubs his thumb into the underside of his cock with callous gentleness, and it’s so good it almost hurts. 

“In my mouth, John. I want to taste you,” 

And really, what more invitation does a man need? 

He pushes Taeyong onto his back none too gently, but Taeyong doesn’t seem to mind, plush lips parted and waiting. He braces himself over Taeyong, hips aligned with his face and Taeyong grabs the small of his back in encouragement, mouth receptive to every thrust. Taeyong uses his other hand to fondle the length that doesn’t go into his mouth and the heavy sack that chafes against his chin. 

Johnny is coming the second Taeyong starts to suck on his head instead of letting him fuck his mouth, and it takes all his effort to not forget himself and shove deeper into the moist warmth that heats his cock. As though taking revenge, Taeyong keeps licking his head even when he’s swallowed Johnny dry and it’s so hot Johnny marvels at how his thoughts are bouncing back to desire this fast when he’s just come. Must be a special Taeyong effect. 

He’s not complaining. 

But he  _ does _ complain to Taeyong, muttering about his secret evil nature, which draws a laugh from him as he sits up. No longer too wounded up to feel anything else, the chill licks at Johnny and he quickly settles back onto the pillow and pulls the coats and covers back over them, Taeyong nestled against him. 

“Hey,” he whispers, deja vu passing. The fire must be dying out, the light is dimmer and yet, Taeyong is so radiant, the ever present gleam in his large eyes amplified. 

“Hey,” Taeyong whispers back.

“Feel your lips now?”

“Yeah,” he giggles, “but my toes are still very cold.” 

Johnny shifts around until Taeyong’s legs are trapped between his, assuring his feet touch Johnny’s warm skin, “There. I’m sorry I didn’t notice you almost freeze to death.” 

“Not your fault. Besides, you did a good job saving me.” Taeyong coos, rubbing Johnny’s arm in a  _ well done. _

Johnny laughs, shaking his head at the unorthodox definition of ‘saving’.

“Did you mean it?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier. Was it, like, a heat of the moment thing? About wanting me. . .”

Something like incredulity passes in Taeyong before he dissolves into fondness. 

“Yes, I meant that. For a long while now.” 

Thrill he can’t word hums through Johnny. “How long are we talking?”

“Two? Three? Three years, maybe more. Senior year.” 

“Three years?” He scoffs, “I win,” 

“No,” Taeyong says, rising a little in disbelief. “Four?” 

“Try again,” 

“Five? Johnny no, it can’t be longer than that. I would’ve noticed.” 

“No, you didn’t.” Johnny is too smug to dwell on the frustration of having to conceal his feelings for so long, “Try fifteen. Since we were fifteen, I mean.” 

Taeyong slaps his arm, an unamused sound leaving his mouth. “Stop lying to me Johnny Suh.” 

“I’m not lying, Taeyong Lee.” 

Taeyong stares and Johnny doesn’t like what he sees; doubt that borders distrust, as if Johnny is on the wrong side of mad for having feelings for Taeyong prevail this long. Johnny doesn’t understand what’s so hard to understand. 

He may be an open book unlike Taeyong but he’s got secret pages like anyone, too, and all of them contain scribbles of Taeyong’s name, over and over. Taeyong’s smile, Taeyong’s joy, Taeyong’s touch, Taeyong’s capability that awes him, Taeyong’s strength, Taeyong’s cosy presence that makes anywhere feel like he’s exactly where he should be,  _ Taeyong, Taeyong, Taeyong, _ ever since they were kids.

“Wow.” Taeyong says, breathless. 

Awe, Johnny knows, from the times they meet a butterfly or the sky turns a pretty shade of rhodolite, is a good look on Taeyong. But awe, Johnny decides, looks best on Taeyong when he puts it there. Taeyong is aglow. And Johnny’s in love.

“Yeah. I’m not lying either when I say I love you. In every way.” 

“I— Johnny.” Taeyong says choked, looking like he wants to say a million things and doesn’t know how to word a single one.

“You don’t have to say it back right now. I just want you to know. We can take it slow, until you’re sure.” Johnny brushes their lips together and smiles.

“But I- I don’t need to be sure when I already am. I love you, Johnny.” 

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first johnyong so i'm just. stabbing in the dark here lol pls be kind in your judgment. 
> 
> i'd like to think they were tracked down by doyoung and yuta who get plenty of blackmail material while johnyong stay shacking it up in that shack till morning... whoops 
> 
> i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/miraclesnapril) and [curious cat](https://curiouscat.me/miraclesnapril) if you'd like to say hi \o/
> 
> thanks for reading and take care~~


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